Message-ID: <7607eli$9804051823@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: Eric Shon Subject: NEW! "Unexpected Company" by Eric Shon (3/8) (M/f-teen, inc, cons) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-transfer-encoding: 7bit Content-type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <2db67eac.3527353a@aol.com> Unexpected Company Part 3 by Eric Shon Since I was taking a few days off, I wasn't going to be a fanatic about the word "early." The night before I had set my alarm to go off a few hours later than my usual, go-to-work "early." And now I was vaguely aware of being shaken. I heard a soft voice reverberating in the distance, pleasant, playful. I made out that the voice was calling out my name. I slowly became aware of sunlight streaking into the room at window level and bouncing off of the opposite wall. The shaking stopped. I rolled to face away from the disturbing light. Suddenly I was seized by violent muscle spasms on either side of my rib cage, and I awoke to find Renate digging her fingers into my sides, rudely tickling me awake. "Come on, you big log! I've been shaking you for HOURS!" she said with a mischievous giggle. "I thought you said we were getting up early!" In my contortions to escape her manic fingers I looked at the clock: 8:08am. Fifty two more minutes of my self-allotted sleep, except for one thing...those fingers! I twisted over to my back and grabbed Renate's ribs, which raised an ear-piercing squeal. It also relieved me of her tickling for the moment as she grabbed at my hands and my much stronger fingers. She twisted away from her perch on the edge of the bed and escaped my savage tickling. She ran a few steps toward the door, apparently certain I would chase her. When I didn't, she twirled around and looked at me, her eyes daring me to follow. Her cheeks were flush with laughter as she panted gleefully. I rose up to my elbows, ready to leap from the bed, but I became suddenly aware of my EMHO (early morning hard-on!). I was wearing briefs, counter to my usual bedtime wear--the sheets I lay between--just so there wouldn't be any awkward moments during Renate's stay. But this morning, after nearly two solid weeks without any real activity, my rock-hard erection throbbed ominously against the fabric of the briefs I wore. I looked briefly at Renate standing by the closed door to the hall. She was wearing a big, light blue t-shirt that hung down to just above mid-thigh, though when she ran away from me I caught a peek at the pink panties she wore underneath. She stood there, feet wide apart, the hem of the shirt stretched across her thighs, knees bent, ready to pounce. A nervous voice sounded in my head: "Relax, boy! She doesn't want to see you this way!" So I did. I smiled at her and lay my head back down on my pillows. "Oh, no you don't, you sleepyhead!" she scolded as she leapt across the room and onto the bed, sitting on my belly, straddling me. My eyes immediately locked onto the patch of pink satin that revealed itself to me between her thighs. I couldn't help it . . . until she resumed tickling me viciously, and this time I let out a yell. I reached up and grabbed her sides and dug my thick fingers into her taut abdomen, just below her rib cage. Renate cackled and tried to escape by sliding away from my hands. Her panty clad ass slid right up on top of my erection. Covered by the blankets and my briefs, I nevertheless felt her direct pressure there as she leaned forward rocking the mound of her vagina right over the pulsing shaft of my penis. I was seized by the fear that she might notice my hard-on beneath her, but if she hadn't noticed and I put a sudden halt to the play, she would suspect that something was wrong. So I freed one leg from under the sprawled covers, raised it up, and brought the heel of my foot across her chest and pushed her back down onto the foot of the bed. Renate let out a delighted scream kicking her legs up as she went over, exposing her nether world to me, however scantily covered by her panties it may be. Her butt followed her heels over, and I noticed that one of the leg bands had ridden up into the crevice of her ass, exposing one whole cheek to me. It was at this point that I was certain I had died and gone to hell. No human-inflicted torture could be this cruel. Renate completed her reverse somersault and wound up on her hands and knees, between my legs, facing me. Her hair was tousled over her face, the blue of her eyes knifing through the orange strands. Her head tilted down until she was looking at me just below her brow, and her lips spread into an evil grin. She was a cat ready to pounce. "Ooh. Now you're gonna get it, boy!" I couldn't help but snort at her through the smirk that broke out across my face. She advanced on me, but I swiftly raised my knees and pinned her in a scissors hold between the shin of my leg beneath the covers under her chest, and the calf of my exposed leg over her back. She let out a yell of protest, the mouse caught in the trap. I let out an evil laugh of my own as she struggled to free herself. She finally saw that she had access to my only weakness, which was my now exposed ribs and midriff, and she attacked them vigorously! I hunched my knees up in gleeful agony, breaking my hold on her chest, and she fell onto me, her chest over my waist, her soft breasts right over my penis. I still had one leg exposed, so I raised it to repeat the forced back-flip I had found successful earlier, but she was wise to it already. She stayed down, resting her chest against me, her chin on my chest, her breasts flattened against my pelvis, and continued her barrage of tickling at my ribs. Instead, I moved my foot to her ribcage and began poking her there. Surprised, Renate recoiled and rolled onto her side to fight off my foot. In all the activity the thick blanket covering me bunched up underneath Renate and between my thighs, leaving just a sheet and my briefs over my waist as she continued to fight my foot and the added attack from my hands on her exposed side with one hand, and continue to tickle me with the other. Renate sat on the bed between my legs, giggling deliriously now, and she pulled her tickling hand away from my ribs, slowly dragging it down my belly as her other hand fought off my dual-fronted attack. Suddenly her hand was right on top of my cock as it lay against my belly! I wasn't sure she noticed where her hand was, though I did sense a change in her laughter. I tensed at the contact, which may have caused her reaction. Regardless, I decided that I had had enough. Very quickly I sat up and grabbed the thin sheet covering me. I lifted it up as I pushed the giggling mass of Renate down onto her side and rolled her over, wrapping the sheet around her. "Hey! What are you doing?!" she drooled. I answered her by scooping her up and rolling her over onto her other side in a fetal position, and pulling both the sheet and blanket from the foot of the bed and throwing it over her, wrapping her up tightly like a burrito. Weak from laughter, she could only offer words as a defense. "Oh, no you don't!" When my task was complete she looked like a baby in swaddling, even down to the red face, tear-stained from laughter, a giggling, shuddering pupa in its cocoon. "Time to get up!" I yelled as I sprinted into the bathroom and slammed and locked the door. I quickly turned on the shower, dropped my briefs to the floor, and stepped into the warm spray. I looked down at my poor, tortured dick staring up at me. I grabbed the soap and began to lather up my hands for a maniacal frigging when the door to the hallway opened up. "Hurry up! I have to pee!" Renate shouted. Startled, I nearly fell on the slippery floor. The door closed. "Shit!" I muttered. I had forgotten to lock the second door to the bathroom. I looked down again at my poor, tortured dick and I decided against the frigging, maniacal or otherwise. I pulled on jeans and a t-shirt after the shower and walked to the door of the guest room and knocked. "Shower's ready." "Okay!" was the response. "When you come out I'll have breakfast ready!" "Cool! I'm really hungry!" By the time I finished frying the bacon Renate came out of the bathroom in jeans and a t-shirt as well, towel-drying her hair. "Mmmm! Smells great!" "Make some toast while I throw the eggs on." I said. As she opened the bread sack Renate seemed to toss an idea around in her head. "Since you've made a nice, big breakfast, I'll make lunch today. How's that?" "Sounds great," I said. And shortly, breakfast was ready. About halfway through a thought occurred to me. "Hey, how about we have a picnic lunch? There's a great spot down there by the river, nice and shady. Not too many bugs." Renate's blue eyes lit up. "Ooh! That's a great idea!" We left the breakfast dishes in the sink and we went out onto the deck to begin work on the hot tub. Once I got my thoughts organized I realized that there wasn't a whole lot for Renate to do in the early stages. I had to go below the deck to run the plumbing lines, for which she just had to stand around and hand me the piece of pipe I told her to hand to me. and then I could only go up to a certain point until I had the tub in and knew exactly where the connections needed to be. Back up on the deck I had her sorting the pipes by type, sorting screws and bolts by length, sorting nuts by which bolts they fit, and other monotonous tasks which couldn't have interested her. But if she was bored, she could have fooled me. She tackled the menial tasks with a smile. She was full of questions about what I was doing, how did I learn that, what does this do.... She kept herself occupied and entertained. Then around 11:00 she stood up and said, "I'm going to start getting lunch ready, OK?" "Can't wait!" I smiled back at her. She beamed at me and jumped, twirling 180 degrees in the air, giggling as she came down, and she skipped to the kitchen. I was below the deck again working on the supports for the tub when I heard her call to me: "Lunch is ready, Al!" I ran around to the other side of the house and in through the kitchen door, and she stood there in the kitchen beaming proudly, a basket full of food sitting on top of a blanket, sitting on the table. "Looks wonderful!" I said. "Shall we?" she asked. "We shall!" I said, reaching my hand out for the basket. Renate grabbed the basket in one hand and grabbed my hand with the other. We followed the obscure deer trail through dry, knee-high scrub weeds and wildflowers along the flat flood plain. After a few minutes we came to a natural clearing where the trees were few and large, providing a thick canopy that shaded the ground and kept the weeds at bay. The ground sloped gently to the river, ending in a sun-soaked beach of fine sand for about the last 100 feet to the water's edge. Renate stopped and just looked around. I remained silent as I watched her take in the moment. Unseen birds chirped busily in the trees, a light breeze blew through the branches in a pleasant hiss, and the water gurgled softly over a felled tree just upstream of the beach. "This is incredible," she whispered. "So peaceful." She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She turned her face upward, dancing shafts of sunlight undulating across her face and sparkling her hair. "Mmmmmm," she sighed. Then she looked at me and said. "Let's eat!" We spread the blanket out and Renate distributed the contents of the basket between the two of us--some sandwiches made from the deli roast beef I had gotten a few days before, a hunk of cheddar, some crackers, and a bottle of red wine from the rack in the living room. She gave me a look when she pulled the bottle out, I assume to see if I would disapprove. It seemed appropriate. The meal certainly wasn't elaborate, but there's always something special about partaking of food outdoors in the cool shade on a beautiful day with nothing pressing you for time. The world's best filet mignon in the world's trendiest restaurant can't compare to a moment like that. After we ate we lay talking for quite a while. We discussed Renate's ambitions and her plans for achieving those ambitions. As I probed and listened to her I realized how extremely intelligent this young woman was. But I still couldn't get over how grown-up she was. To hear her talk, if you didn't already know she was just one Summer out of high school, you'd swear she was 20 years older. She seemed ready for the future, and better yet, she seemed to know just how to take the curves when they came her way. We had chatted for what seemed like an hour when the ground became a little uncomfortable for my back, so I abruptly sat up. "I don't want to go back, yet, Al," she whined. "I'm not going anywhere," I said. Renate cocked her head at me. "Are there any other neat places around here to explore?" "I don't know," I shrugged. "I made it this far and never thought about going any farther." "I don't blame you. This is paradise. What do you like to do here by yourself?" "Ohh.." I sighed. "Just think. Work through problems I have at the clients'. Write down my ideas. Swim..." "Yeah! A swim would be great right now!" Renate chirped. "Too bad I left my suit up at the house." "I usually just go naked. There's nobody else around." I said it without thinking, with a casual wave of my hand. It was the truth, as natural as can be. When the mood strikes me, I just strip and dip. I didn't even realize what I had said until I caught the expression on her face as she looked at me. Her face flushed slightly as she smiled. Then she bent her head down and giggled. "I haven't gone skinny dipping since I was in sixth grade!" Her hands went to work on the front of her jeans. ***Be sure to read the rest of "Unexpected Company," parts 1-8, by Eric Shon, as well as other Eric Shon stories here, and at Mr. Double's website: http://www.mrdouble.com. Tell me what you think of this story! Send comments to ericshon@aol.com -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |